I hate it when people tell me they are sorry I lost my husband. I didn’t lose him; he died. He is gone. It is not like I can find him under a cushion or in a closet somewhere. He is not lost. I am lost. Not him.
I have been very busy this past month. The main floor renovations are almost complete. The rooms have been painted, the hardwood is laid, new furniture is in and it is looking good. They will replace the gas fireplace this week and I have someone coming to hang the light fixture in my dining room. We filled two dumpsters and a third one is almost full. I think by Sunday the main floor of my house will be finished with the exception of the new windows.
A friend of mine hired me to help at his office while his bookkeeper was on vacation. I worked for two weeks and really enjoyed it. I bought some new “work” clothes and it felt good going out. I really don’t think I was “needed” there but they certainly made me feel welcome. It was a nice change of pace and for those hours I mostly concentrated on work and not John. I could feel him with me in a very supportive way.
I still don’t sleep well. I sleep on a tiny edge of my bed (on my husband’s side) and the rest of the bed is covered in clothes. I’m going through his clothes and mine and donating bags and bags to Value Village. Most of my clothes are dated and I have so many of them that I will never need to buy new ones again. But I can’t bear to get rid of John’s Hawaiian shirts and his Jimmy Buffet ones. They are John. I’ve been doing laundry and every dirty shirt of his that I find I cry into and try and smell him just one more time. I hold his shirts and try and feel him. I miss him so very much.
I finally broke down and called my doctor on Friday to ask him for sleeping pills. Surprise … surprise he is on holidays until the middle of October. Is this a sign from John that I shouldn’t use sleeping pills? I need more sleep though because when I’m tired I’m more emotional. I went out today and bought some over the counter sleeping medication and I hope that it will help me get at least 7 hours sleep tonight. With sleep I’ll heal. I’ll get stronger every day.
Over the past three months I have thought a great deal about death. I feel guilty that I am alive and John isn’t. He should be here enjoying his retirement. If there was any way we could have traded places I would have gladly done it for him. He worked so hard his entire life that he deserved to spend some golden years. He took such good care of me and the rest of the family that he truly deserved to be the one that lived.
I also understand how people can die of a broken heart. I think of dying all the time now. I admit I thought of suicide. I feel so alone and broken that death would be welcome but I have to wait until it is my time. I never believed in an afterlife until John got ill. One day in the hospital John was looking off into the distance. I asked him what he was looking at and he looked at me with genuine surprise. He answered that my dad was there. I could see him smiling. He nodded and then said my dad was leaving (to walk down the lane way) and he’d be back. John didn’t remember telling my daughter and I this but we had many talks over the next weeks. He told me that he knew there was something beyond the life that we have here. He promised he would always be near me. He told me that he would be the wind blowing past me, that I would feel him if I could quiet my mind. I see him when I dream (which is very rare now). Now I have to be strong and rebuild my life. I need to be good so that when it is my time to die that I will be reunited with John. We will spend eternity together. I believe this with my whole heart.
So I have decided I’m going to start new tomorrow. I’m going to eat better, sleep better, move more, listen to happy music and be productive. I’m going to try and heal my heart, never forgetting John but working towards being a person that he would be proud of. Then someday we will be together again and spend forever united.
Forever and all ways.